


Pining is Gross

by Duchesse



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Reader Insert, Romance, a lot of pining, reader interactive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 19:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18901330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchesse/pseuds/Duchesse
Summary: Late nights at the bar sometimes surprised you, especially when you could talk over a drink.[Cloud Strife/Reader]





	Pining is Gross

When the final patron of the night stumbled his way onto the dimly lit sidewalk, you were quick to flip the metal sign across the front of the door and kill the lights inside. The night shift at Seventh Heaven wasn’t the worst atrocity you had faced in your lifetime; but a Friday evening on payday never failed to bring you misery and purple knuckles from forcibly removing a rowdy one or two. It was a job you often left to the Turks on the condition you gave them unlimited rounds of free drinks, but even they had their own duties.

“Tifa should be happy by these numbers in he morning.” You gave an exasperated sigh, unfolding a beige rag with a flick of your wrist and began to swirl it inside one of the glasses. They were clean enough as it was, though inevitably, the excitement during the night was a high that took a while to come down from, especially after having six shots of espresso twenty minutes before your shift even started.

Admittedly, it was your favorite task of the night despite the volume of them sitting around in clusters all across the bar. You mentioned to Tifa on occasion that she needed to hire more outside help for the weekend; to which she seemed to concede, yet never fully took initiative in solely because of having two kids barreling through the bar at all hours along with people yacking at her through a headset.

You couldn’t say you would rather have that responsibility.

Bracing your back to the edge of the counter, you dug your hand deeper in the glass to remove the smears, admiring as it glistened against the halo of light from the ceiling light. However, the sound of the door groaning open and shutting with a slam, made the glass pop out from your grasp and spiral into a series of curses as you snapped your arm down to snag it.

“Hey! We’re closed! Can’t you see the- Oh, Cloud.” You clamped your jaws shut, still moving your lips as you were unsure whether to smile or scowl at him for the ruckus. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight. I thought you would’ve spent gil for a room.”

“Didn’t want to spend the money.” He bolted the door behind him, approaching with a hand massaging the back of his neck as though working out a knock. “Not surprised to see you still awake, though.”

“Of course you’re not.” You scoffed, flipping the cup in your hand to rest it atop the rim on the shelf before grabbing another from the pile next to you. “You’ve gotta have some happy face to come home to at night.”

He paused for a moment, considering his words before answering with quiet amusement, “Right.”

So, you weren’t a stand up comedian and your type of humor wasn’t exactly tasteful or favored among the general public, but if you could get some type of laugh from Cloud Strife, it was a good joke. Even at your own expense.

You were slow to give him much regard, gradually facing towards the front of the bar as he lumbered closer; the weight of the day clear in the way his shoulders sagged and his boots rattled the floorboards underfoot. The metal feet of the stool grated harshly in your ears as he pulled it out and dropped into it, almost as though a marionette had cut the strings to a puppet.

It wasn’t under he slumped forward over the bar, gloves cast aside to squeeze the skin between his eyes that you actually felt a twinge of sympathy. “Oof, rough night? How far were some of those deliveries?”

“Barret said they wouldn’t go farther than Kalm.” He answered, clearly insinuating the surface of his partner’s deceit.

You were eager to hear. “So, he sent you out all the way tooooooo?”

“Junon.” He sounded more bitter than the time Vincent accidentally ate a lemon.

The glass in your hands came close to slipping again as you broke out into sputters of laughter, reeling them into strangled whimpers when you met a lethal stare. There was a time when you could say you were particularly familiar with Barret’s personal theories on running business, hearing this came as little surprise.

It took you a while to settle the quivers in your chest and to muster the courage to look at him again. With a heavy flare through your nostrils, you set aside your cleaning rag and cup, opting for the untouched bottle of water you had fetched for yourself during a lull in evening traffic.

“Been there, done that. Don’t forget Barret and I were the ones who used to run a business together. You’re lucky most of the ownership is actually under Tifa and not, like, him. Tough break this time around, though.” You said, plucking a glass from the shelf on your way around the bar with a tall bottle filled with amber liquid. “Just think of all the bills you can pay, though!”

“Thanks,” he replied simply.

As you approached and thrust the glass down in front of him, the shrill sting of the glass on the counter top reverberated through the bar and your brain. You flicked the cap off the liquor and poured a bit for him. “Have a drink for a job well done, delivery boy.”

He needed no further provocation and took the rim to his lips, taking light sips of it despite the creases that formed in his forehead. The guy wasn’t much of a drinker, something you appreciated after working the bartender gig for as long as you had, but it was always a hoot to watch him try.

Resisting another wave of laughter bubbling up to your throat, you uncapped your water and took a couple of drinks from that as well. The silence that enveloped you both was easygoing, an unspoken appreciation of each other’s company. Funnily enough, three years ago, the creak of wobbly stools and whirl of electrical units in the building would had drove you insane.

Three years ago, he was different. Wound up tighter than a piano string, so lost within himself that he was an impregnable fortress of despair and guilt. He wasn’t pleasant to be around, either. People like him often weren’t.

Once the geostigma crisis came to a halt, he gradually began opening up to you in way you hadn’t expected. In one instance, he had approached you to help with paperwork not long as establishing some semblance of an amiable acquaintanceship and you had been convinced Tifa was slipping him something.

Nowadays, you could do this. You could periodically go on deliveries with him with your lips sticking shut from not speaking a word the duration of the drive. You were able to look at him differently; fondly, with the contemplation of wanting something more.

He was a good man and you were grateful for him.

“That business that you and Barret ran together,” he glanced to you before taking another sip. “What made you hand it over him?”

“Sometimes you just know when you’re incompatible with someone. Me and Barret… we’re better as friends than business partners. There’s that, uh, stupid saying out there where you shouldn’t start a business with your best friends or family.” You swished some water between your cheeks. “Turns out, it isn’t a stupid saying.”

Cloud gave a sage nod, polishing off the rest of his drink. “Makes sense.”

“Gotta tell you though. You know those metal scrapper brothers that I work with sometimes? Uh-huh, yeah.” You capped your water and leaned close to him, nearly teetered straight into him. His hair brushed the side of your face, yet neither of your moved away. “Just between us, they really needed someone with brains.”

At this, Cloud gave a sharp exhale through his nostrils, shaking his head as he moved the aside. You caught a ghost of a smile on his lips, tempting you to try more. “Who knows, maybe if I keep working for them, I’ll eventually just fall into ownership and become the wealthiest metal scrapper in all of Edge.”

His fingertips still had a grip on the glass, moving across the rim as he looked at you. “You probably could be if you wanted to.”

Your lips pressed together firmly, twitching upward while you considered a response. It wasn’t often you managed to get a compliment from him, much less a smile while saying it. The thrum against your ribs was an unpleasant sensation, and you could feel the heat crawling up to your ears.

“Yup, probably.” You grinned, scooting the booze closer. “Want more? We got all night.”

Cloud looked lighter than he did when he first came in, even as he shook his head and rose from the bar. “Not a good idea, I have deliveries in the morning. Don’t stay up too late.” Your shoulder yielded to the weight of his hand as he clapped you heartily, letting his hand linger for a just a moment too long before slowly removing it and leaving you to yourself.

You waited until the creaking floorboards ceased, and the bedroom clicked shut before slouching forward and blew air from between your lips. Your shoulder still tingled with the ghost of his hand.

“Man, I’m in serious trouble.”


End file.
